Entrée
by SoundlessSleep
Summary: A story set in Italy about a girl named Clarissa Moschatel, and the experiences she has most cannon characters aren't going to show up in this one besides a certian coven in the same country .
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

The city is so beautful when there aren't people in it. Is it always such a bad thing that I believe it so? Not truly...hopefully. But, looking back, I have never been such a socialable individual. I don't scorn it as a fatal character attribute, but yet a final definition of self. Somehow, the ability to define a relationship as earthbreakingly important eluded me most of my life...perhaps this is why they chose me, other than the obvious predicament of my constitution.

I didn't stop running, I felt no need to stop. The sheer thought that I didn't have to stop, that I would never get tired, or feel like my lungs were going to explode at any moment sent me rearing on the edge of brutal and insane fury. Thus I quickened. They couldn't catch me now...I was free...free at last to live in hell.


	2. On the Streets of Napoli

I was floating, but the water wasn't cold. It wasn't warm either. Though I looked down to see my hands and feet, they were distorted by the fluids around me. I then heard something, well felt was a better term. Whatever it was, pierced the body of the fluid that I floated about in. I think I had started reaching towards it. It was only then I noticed something cold, then I opened my eyes to see the flashing face of the clock. Surprised I nearly fell out of the bed as I grabbed it and threw it on the ground. After a few seconds I looked around the well lit dorm room and then at the clock that was no longer attacked to the wall.

Great, now I need a new clock.

Morning wasn't my favorite time of day, but at least it still held the coolness of the previous night. Opening the window, I looked down at the streets to take in a breath expecting perhaps the sound of a bird or two, or maybe the wind chimes that hanged from my neighbors veranda. However, the blaring alarm of the dorm head's Volvo rung through my ears as a cat jumped from a lamp post, deciding to follow a gnat onto its roof. Closing the window quickly I sighed as I walked over to the standing mirror.

A scowl was etched onto the face of the lightly tanned scarecrow of a girl who looked back at me as she rung her hands through her hair trying to pull out the tangles of a fitful sleep. Grabbing next to her right awkwardly at the edge of the comb, I started to begin the reconstruction of the warzone that was her head pulling and taming the ruffled locks. Though not completely neat, she managed to straighten it to a point where she could pull it back into a single short ended pony tail with a stray scrunchie.

Looking away from the hair, and at the collar of the lilac blouse, a slight transition to a paler creme caught my eye, and I pulled it up to have a lick. Vanilla, so either I had ice cream the night before, or the bag of oreos that went missing the previous day had found its way into my bed. Shrugging, I pulled away the glossy image of the skinny college student and headed towards the bathroom. I hoped, beating my other dormates to the hot water.

There wasn't much of a rush for breakfast. But then again, why should there be there wasn't going to be classes starting up for at least another three weeks. Anybody who wasn't off vacationing elsewhere or visiting family for the holidays was probably sleeping off the previous night. As long as there was a single bar open in the city of Napoli, I'm quite certain there'd be a party for most the girls at my dorm. I'm also certain that I'd be attending a few of them over at least the next week before I begin pulling research and finishing assignments for the fall semester. If not for the quest to find the perfect martini, then the promise of a free meal. Of course, I always knew ahead of time where they were going, I wasn't stupid after all. Even a blue glowing tourist trap still had shadows that needed to be avoided, and there was no way I was going to be hacked to bits, or wake up hungover in a room I don't recognize.

Getting to the food, I pushed around the sausage and eggs onto two pieces of toast and started to construct a sandwich. Though it was probably a bit crude since I wasn't very good with my hands, it was at least faster. Though any food was good food, the board provided at a college was hardly the standard that each dish was sensational on it's own, so some flavor stacking was always required. It would make quite a mouthful as I took a bite and was instantly interrupted by the growling monotone of Eliana Machiz,

"How did you manage to crawl out of bed out after having so many cocktails."

She always had the best timing when she caught me eating. I'd scowl at her, but considering she looked worse then I did holding a bottled water to her forehead to cool it I restrained the snark while I took a swallow, almost smiling,

"You need me to make some soup to help your stomach again."

Letting out a groan at the idea of food she contented herself with slipping into the chair across from mine as I continued eating my breakfast sandwich.

Eliana wasn't much of a light weight, but she always had a hard time avoiding heavy alcohol drinks at party. The night before I remember seeing her pour down more then one Bloody Mary down her long thin throat. Head tilted back, she pulled down a pair of sunglasses to hide her bloodshot eyes.

"I don't get it, how do you always come out of those parties sober the next day."

This time I was prepared to answer immediately as I put down the sandwich,

"Non-alcoholic beverages, it wouldn't kill you to memorize a few mixed drinks when the guys continue to insist that you need them to loosen up."

Groaning again she put her head on the table and reached over to grab something off my place. It was just a tangerine so I let her have at it. It wasn't in season anyway and the tangerine would probably help with her stomach.

Fuck was it hot, it was all I could really describe the sensation as the afternoon took effect. Though I knew it was coming like it did every day, the increase in tempurature never let me relax on the stone streets. The city itself was mostly stone. Being close to the water, it was impractical to make outside facing structures out of wood because of the rot that would ensue with the help of the storms that would occasionally pass through. Plus, it was a nice part of town, so they could afford it. But it didn't help the heat as the stones absorbed it and simmered under the midday sun. My sandals slipped a little as the bottom of my feet got moist with a light layer of sweat. Though I didn't sweat perfusely, my feet were so much hotter because of the closeness they had to the ground. Stopping at the top of the incline I had climbed I leaned against the wall that separated the street, the slope and the sea and waited for a cooling breeze to come.

It was beautiful, the sea, it shimmered and glinted to reflect the light of the sun. Though it absorbed the heat, I was certain in those waters it would be cold. It was a pity really, the simple fact was any beach in the area would be filled to the brim by now as the tourists continued to plague the city like locusts, consuming every resource available to them, and otherwise causing unnecessary noise and rowdiness. Though I couldn't help that tourism was such a major industry of the city I resided, I still wished winter was here already. It was in the winter that the beaches were completely clear, and I could move to the waters, and the cold. It was the cold I missed the most.

Heat made every feeling shouted and exaggerated, but cold was different. It numbed the feelings, and removed the pain. It seeped almost immediately and always took the places that warmth could not feel. It seemed so familiar to me, and as such, it was always welcome because the familiar was hard to find nowadays.

The daylight hanged around the city longer then I would of liked. The sunshine hours were always the busiest on the streets. Tourists packed into the corners of all the cafes and bakeries that lined my usual sampling route. The wait itself was almost as infuriating as the disappointment that the so called new sweets, treats and blends were almost always sold out. As twilight started to descend though, the shops started to slow down as more and more people decided that it was time to return to the various hotels and inns they were lodging in to either prepare for a night out on the town, or what to order for room service while they browse through the language subtle selection for there TVs. Either way, I was finally able to stop without feeling boxed in at Cafe Chiaro Come Il Sol, or C3 as me and my companions liked to call it. I propped my feet on the back of a chair and started to look around the restaurant as I sipped on a smoothie. A couple of guys past, some offering side glances at me, I really didn't get what much there was to see.

I'd seen my reflection on the way in through the shop glass, the thin girl in a tan floppy hat, lavender tank top, and cream skirt that stopped just above her legs was pretty much as dishevel as someone who finished a triathlon. Though I tried to fix the hair up by retying it, the face still shimmered a bit with light bits of sweat, as well as redness in her cheeks before entering the shop. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a mirror to examine the skinny girls face, the redness was gone, but the moisture made some hair stick to the side. How hadn't I noticed that.

Sighing, I pulled out my cell and looked at the time, it would take about another half hour to walk back to the dorms, and it wouldn't be pleasant if I didn't get there before the night crowd got to the streets. After some complaints I heaved myself up before I walked out the door. On my way out, I caught a glimpse of one the guys who had earlier glanced at me. Maybe it was my imagination, but I think he was staring at me as I left.

I didn't bother looking for a party that night, besides, it was Sunday, even if I wasn't religious it was still a day of rest and I intended to take full advantage of that. The dorms were pretty quiet, which either meant that there was no one there, or they were probably still recovering from the previous nights hangover. Neither really instituted me making much of a racket myself, so I climbed the steps slowly as I made my way to my room. I stopped just short of the only window that actually had a good view. All the other dorms I've been in were all level with the neighboring flats as such the only view was perhaps looking into the closed window and potted plants of our neighbors. However this view opened out over the parking lot and extended over an incline straight over the city and to the sunset. The sight in itself was spectacular, but combined with the silence, I was able to stand there looking for quite some time as it sank into darkness. Night was finally here.

The night was always cool, even in the summer. The dorm house was miles away from the nearest club, restaurant or bar so it was almost completely quiet outside. Also, the real beauty of the city seemed reveal itself as the lights started fade into existence on both the sky. Italy itself was considered a beautiful county, but most people only saw it in the light. It was in the dark that it seemed to shine. Rome was pretty in a similar sense, except that everything was incredibly well lit, so the day seemed much less different from the night. Here however, night time was clearly separate, even with the streetlights, the sea itself had no unnatural light to illuminate itself. It didn't really need it after all, the sea in this area glowed on its own with a completely natural phenomenon. Not that I could see it from my room.

In my dorm, the walls and furniture were shaded in tints of blue and lavender as darkness, only being scattered by the outside streetlights that came in through the windows and the glow of my laptop as I typed. Laying on by stomach, focusing my eyes on the glow as I wrote in my blog of the sweets and treats of the Napoli streets, I rarely ventured a look to my window or two any noises that sounded from it. The truth was, it wasn't like I would ever really expect someone, most people who knew me also knew another thing, I wasn't really a person who liked surprises. I guess it was because it was pretty hard for me to find a reason to be surprised good or bad. Graduating on the higher end of my high school class, winning 2nd in the Coupe D' Opale rope decision, getting a full ride to this school, none of those good things surprised me (especially when I looked back on the competition for those things). Things like what happened with my family, the disappearances, the being past through several hands, though the incidents were surprising at first, when you looked at the numbers it happened so often it was almost mundane.


	3. Incident in Piazza Dante

It's fairly hard for me to tell when I've gone to sleep even when I'm tired. The darkness in the pale colored room has almost the same tint as the darkness of the inside of my eyelids. The only real difference from when they were closed and opened was the shapes that were outlined by the light that poured in from my window. However, strangely that night, I couldn't tell at all, because little light went through the window. I remember being curious about why this was before I switched from the darkness of my room, to the darkness of my eyelids.

The alarm this morning instead of the usual buzzing, was the tune of my phone that laid just out of my reach. I tried to shake away the urge to simply ignore it and go back to dreaming once more before I finally reached to see who was calling. It wasn't a call though, it was a text from one of her professors,

_One of my colleagues told me there's going to be a wine tasting down at Piazza Dante today._

It took me a second for me to register the message as well as the time on my phone. Sitting up fully now, I made my response,

_What time is it starting?_

There wasn't a reply immediately, so I got up and started to change. As I was about to head to the showers I heard my phone again. Picking it up, I looked at the response,

_1:30, though I suggest you get there early if you want to get a seat._

Looking at the time, I saw it was about ten thirty already. Plenty of time, but it was unlikely that I'd be able to get there on a bus with the Monday traffic. It took a little bit, but I managed to find my Metronapoli card.

Public transportation was never my cup of tea. I prefered walking around the Porto district during the day, but if I wanted to get to anywhere outside of Porto without running the risk of tourist season traffic, the trains were the best way to go. Though there were of course a couple of rules of thumb when it came to train travel, the first and foremost rule was to never dress scantally on a train ride. There are too many ways to forced into an uncomfortable position while wearing a short skirt or a low cut blouse. So today I wore just a dark mauve v-neck and a pair of khaki capris with my dark sneakers. The second was not to bring handbags, theives thrive in crowded areas, especially purse snatchers who could simply disappear in the crowd with very little trouble. Adjusting the strap on my messenger I made sure it was set close to my body and that the zippers were all closed before I started out of the dorms and down the street to the metro station. Sighing, I wished the last rule didn't apply, never listen to music while walking down streets or waiting on trains. Having earphones in was almost a bullseye for theives as far as unsuspecting victums went, also music could stop one from hearing when they're suppose to get off.

It was about eleven when I got there, so the working crowd had already come and gone, however, the tourists were still going strong in there upheaval. I didn't know what was more uncomfortable to be around, the attractive young people who were constantly complaining, or the slightly overweight middle aged couples who weren't nearly as noisy but were a bit hard to look at because they weren't really dressed appropriately for they're age. Some clothing was just not made for people with stretchmarks. I managed to get into an empty car on line A1 and sat for a couple of stops before switching trains.

There wasn't much to do, except stand, maybe flip through some food magazines, and perhaps some people watching. There were a couple of guys on the train, they were talking, and it was obvious who they were friendly with. However, there was another guy who seemed to be off by himself. He caught my eye, in fact he caught a lot of eyes. He was wearing sunglasses and a hoody, but there was a distinctness about him even in the poor lighting of the public transit. More then a few girls were looking his way, but he returned very few of they're glances. I myself only stole one in passing as I made my way off and over to another train but even through the sunglasses he seemed to meet my gaze. It was eerily attractive from a distance. I might of stopped to look more clearly at him if I wasn't already on my way out.

The brightness was a little much for my tastes, outside the transit I pulled on the sunglasses as I started down the street. There was a station that was probably a lot closer, or right under Piazza Dante, but I really didn't care. It was about twelve twenty, and I really needed to stretch my legs after standing for so long on the trains.

I didn't come out with a particularly large crowd because most simply weren't going in my direction. The area had several museums that would be open right about now to every tourist who could fork over fifteen euro a piece. I wasn't terribly interested in any of them since none of them actually had any useful information towards the career of a food critic. Though times were a bit hard, Italy was if anything a country of good times and good food. Tourism alone pushed every new restuarant and cafe to try and invent the newest flavor, or authentic Italian taste. The field itself was very attractive to me simply because it was a field that was all about judging the hardwork of others and giving them due credit for their creativeness and unique tastes, or lack of such. It won't pay much at first of course, but I could work at a restuarant or a cafe as a side career to keep a steady budget.

The thoughts of the the career that I was preparing for kept me quite distracted as I made my way down through the side streets, and almost passed the building holding the wine tasting in the first place. It was a large stone structure with a lot of intricate designs. Though such an appearance suggested a rather old Spanish building like a lot of the ones in the area, the overall design seemed was a bit to clean cut suggesting that it was more recently made, or at least recently reinvated. The inside had the same feeling of grandoir, and it didn't take me long to figure that this was probably a relatively expensive hotel. Walking down the steps of the lobby, my eyes drifted away from the pretty lights and nice carpet to the security cameras. It was a habit of mine I had developed in High School whenever I wanted to ditch class, and now it was a game to see where they had hidden them in all this overly plush interior that they tried to wow tourists with.

When I got to the ballroom where the actual wine tasting was taking place, I had counted five cameras that were stratigually placed just inside crown mouldings around the hotel. If you looked closely, you could see that the panels of the area around it had fault lines where it and the camera could be removed for repair. There was a small group of people waiting outside the doors, I pulled out my phone to check the time. It was just a little before one which meant I'd have to stand around some more. Leaning against the wall, I pulled out my food magazine and started to turn towards the back where there was a white chocolate mousse recipe that I wanted to try once I got back to my dorm.

There were only one or two of the normal hastles present with any event that involved alcohol, mainly it was simply proving I was old enough to consume it legally. After flashing my student ID a few times, the servers led me to a table with a couple that was probably in their late twenties. They were nice enough, though they didn't seem terribly interested in me as they were each other. Before the actual tasting began, they just talked and joked to each other, occasionally pulling me into the conversation if the story was amusing enough to be more then simply an in joke. Though I didn't mind the whole thing terribly, once they started to bring out the nicely made drinks, my focus shifted to the task at hand.

Taking out a notepad, I pulled out a pen and waited for the host to start explaining the different wines. They started with some rose wine, I liked the scent, the taste however was a bit too weak. It seemed like something they'd mix with spirits to thin it out a bit. After that, several white wines were served as well, I started noting them by name from top to bottom what my favorite was. The red wine was also had a wide selection, the darkest was so strong I almost spit it out as soon as it touched my tongue. They ended the whole song and dance with some incredibly sweet dessert wine that seemed like it would go well with a tart, or a marang pie to add a contrast in tastes. It was probably meant to drown out the tastes of the stronger wines so people wouldn't lose their appetite, this seemed especially certian because on the way out most of the guests were almost immediately directed to the in hotel restuarant. Having the time, I decided a sit down lunch wouldn't kill my budget too much.

I was wrong. The small hotel restuarant was supposedly a French one, and all the dishes had French names as well to wow the tourists. This sort of thing probably would of only work in Napoli since Italian was the actually the main language of the region. Didn't fool me much though. I didn't look it but French was actually my first langauge since I had been raised outside of Marseille for the first few years of my life, then in the city limits of Paris during my teens and high school years. Most the names were very blunt translations and the pictures were easy to identify as very simple French dishes that were just glammed up with fancy camera work and good lighting. Dispite this, the whole place was expensive as hell, I only ordered sour dough and some soup and ended up paying fourteen euro for the whole meal. For that much money, I would of expected something amazing, but the meal itself was just on par with the food served in my college cafeteria. The service was alright dispite the crowd, so I tipped ten percent to the waitor but I'd definitely have to report this resturaunt on my blog later tonight. Walking out I was already deciding what word combination that was both ironic and blunt I could post to describe my eating experience at The Lune Obscurité. As I turned the corner though, I realized two things, one I had left from a very rarely used entrance and there was very few people around, and two, one of them was clearly following me.

I wasn't sure at first, so I kept walking, the footsteps were quiet, making a few turns it was obvious this person didn't have any destination except following me as I circles the Piazza. I didn't turn around to see who it was. The streets of Avvocatta were not known for were not well known for it's crime level. It being a mainly tourist area, the highest rate was the usual pickpockets. However, bad things happened in nice areas all the time, maybe because no one would suspect them happening. Reaching into my bag I dug to the bottom for my small can of maize. Holding the slick surface which felt like the right thing, I turned the corner into the shadow of a building and started jogging. It was only then I looked back to see if the tailer was following. To my surprise, there was no one behind me. Though I didn't have to time to dwell on it as I ran into something very hard.

The impact felt like I was hitting stone and I was knocked back almost losing my balance but sticking my leg back I bent backwards a bit before looking back up. In front of me, to my surprise was a boy. Not only a boy, but the boy with the sunglasses I had seen on the train. He was smiling, and for a second, I stopped to stare at it. It was beautiful, curving onto his face under his short pale nose. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me up, I took a breath and couldn't help but think how nice he smelled. I wasn't one to swoon over boys in general, sure some were okay to look at, but none really sparked my interest just with physical appearance, but I couldn't help but stare even as he spoke I didn't hear what he said at first but caught it as he repeated himself.

"Are you alright?"  
The voice was very smooth and nonthreatening. It seemed a little bit, but I responded in my own surprisingly small voice,

"I'm fine, and umm sorry, I didn't see you there."  
He smiled again, that same smile that lit his face before. Though I couldn't see his eyes it seemed they were pleased. I continued speaking, being careful not to stutter over myself,

"I... someone was following me, I wasn't sure if they were someone I could..."  
I couldn't really say that I thought I was being stalked by a theif or a rapist even though the thought had crossed my mind as I sped forward. I didn't need to speak as he took the liberty to continue the conversation for me,

"I can see why you'd be nervous, it's dangerous for such a cute girl to be wandering the streets by herself, even in broad daylight."  
In retrospect, I should of called out the straight bullshit that was dribbling from his mouth. I had been given several compliments like that before, and usually I didn't believe a word of it. Though I did take good care to keep a neat appearance, I was hardly cute. My arms and legs were skinny, and any curves I had were so gentle even a one piece leotard couldn't make them visible. My complexion wasn't bad, it's just I didn't wear make up because it was such a hassle and it smelled bad, plus it was hard to properly taste anything if your lipgloss or lipstick was rubbing onto it with every bite. There was also the simple fact that even at my age I looked to be, at most in my late teens rather then mid twenties. Still even as that arguement kept circulating in my mind, it seemed to drop as I realized such a handsome guy had gone out of his way to compliment me.

I was speechless for a little while. He was looking at me through his sunglasses, though he might as well been looking at a statue, because my mind had almost completely checked out because of the shock. Though there was a funny thing about it, even in the state I was in, there was a strangeness about my arm. His grip was firm on my arm and was holding me up, however there was something weird. Napoli was hot and dry during the summer, it was a basic rule of thumb, but there was a chill in me. At it's source I could only find his arm touching mine, it was strange to say the least, and downright creepy at the most. Either way, I almost unintentionally took a step back only to find he wouldn't let me take it.

"Umm, can I have my arm back?"  
He smiled again, but it seemed less gentle this time,

"No, no you can not."  
The voice, it seemed, a bit more coarse as well.

"I've been watching you since yesterday, and it's been so difficult."  
I tried to take another step back, but his grip refused to let me do so. He wasn't even struggling, he was standing so casually as he held me there like I was nothing more then a rag doll hanging from his side. My eyes shifted to find, there was no one around. Somehow the town that always seemed so full and crowded was missing its crowds and crowds of people.

"That home of yours was pretty alluring, everything in there smelled of you, and when you returned I could barely stand it."  
My mouth breathed in again, the smell was still as sweet, but somehow it started to make me feel sick.

"That is SO freaking creepy."  
The smile dropped,

"That's hardly so, it's nature. I couldn't kill you in your den, there would be too many prying eyes. However, out here in the wild, who's to say a few lions won't pick off the harmless sheep."  
It was strange, both the instance she was in, and the metaphor he was using to describe it,

"Lions, this is Europe, wouldn't there be more wolves."  
His face scowled, holding the smooth container in my right while he kept grip on my left.

"Don't compare me to those dirty..."  
I cut him off by bringing up my right and holding what I thought was the course top of the maize only to bring up a disposible lighter. He blocked almost instantly with his free hand grabbing my wrist and looked at me.

"So what was that suppose to do?"  
I sighed.

"It was suppose to be the hand that sprayed maize all into your creepy little mouth and ruin that snow white complexion of yours."

He held the hand closer to his face while keeping a grip on my arm. I tried to move, but I could feel myself being pulled upward and almost off balance again as he did so.

"Why don't I take care of this hand first then?"  
I thought he was going to try and tear it off (which at that point I didn't really doubt was beyond his capabilities), but he instead moved his head closer, only stopping to take a sniff before opening his mouth wide. He was going to bite me? That was incredibly creepy, though looking at his teeth I could tell that it would be more then just a minor wound.

Fuck, what was I going to do.

That thought circulated as I pushed down the lighter into my hand and over his. It slid off and just before he got to my hand, into his mouth. Feeling the plastic or something, he his head back trying to figure out what was in his mouth this caused him instinctly to bite down. I don't know what type of logic caused it, but there was a spark off the flint or maybe the wheel, maybe the lighter fluid got it or something but it was only a second later that I was on the ground looking at him reign back in pain while he was literally flaming at the mouth. I only had a falling start, but there was almost no hesitation or need to stop and watch the spectical. Instead, I got up, and I ran. I ran out of the buildings shadow and down the sidewalk passing a few people who were coming out of a small cafe. The streets were probably empty because most people were going inside to have lunch at that time, though I really didn't think of that until I looked back on the incident.

Glancing back once, I caught a glimpse of him trying to follow, though it was only a glimpse there was something strange about him being in sunlight. Maybe he was sweating or something, and the droplets reflected it back, but as he came forward, he seemed to almost sparkle before falling in pain on the hard concrete. I don't know if he ever got up again that day, I honestly didn't care. I continued running, down the way to the most crowded place I see. It was as he said, in the wild I could easily be picked off while I was alone, and as such there was always safety in numbers.


End file.
